I Apologize (-And I Forgive You)
by Marshmellows and Mittens
Summary: "Mister, are you alright?" Her eyes swam with worry as she tumbled over her own feet, finding her way to the park bench America was on, and sat down without prompting from the older male and handed him a small orange handkerchief. "You seem to have gotten something in your eyes, Mister." One-Shot. Rest of Summary inside.


**Title: I Apologize (-And I Forgive You)**

**SUMMARY: **

**"Mister, are you alright?" ****Her eyes swam with worry as she tumbled over her own feet, finding her way to the park bench America was on, and sat down without prompting from the older male, and handed him a small orange handkerchief. ****"You seem to have gotten something in your eyes, Mister."**

**It's 1946 and America's hosting the annual World Conference in Washington D.C. Post War tension hasn't ceased to fade and America's not certain if he can hold it out for much longer.**

**Luckily, a singular figure is there to remind him it's not the other countries' opinions or grievences that matter.**

**Pairing: N/A**

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><p>'Sup!<p>

I've always wanted to right a One-Shot about America and one of his citizen meeting, and America realizing how important his is to the people that call him home... Post-WWII.

God Bless,

Mellow-chan

(A/N: I do not own Hetalia, Amazing Grace, or God Bless the U.S.A. All rights go to their respective owners.

Warning: OOC America, Angst, and weird, weird rambling on my part.)

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><p><em>Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,<em>

_That saved a wretch like me..._

_I once was lost but now am found,_

_Was blind, but now, I see._

_T'was Grace that taught..._

_my heart to fear._

_And Grace, my fears relieved._

_How precious did that Grace appear..._

_the hour I first believed._

_Through many dangers, toils and snares..._

_we have already come._

_T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far..._

_and Grace will lead us home._

_The Lord has promised good to me..._

_His word my hope secures._

_He will my shield and portion be..._

_as long as life endures._

_When we've been here ten thousand years..._

_bright shining as the sun._

_We've no less days to sing God's praise..._

_then when we've first begun._

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,_

_That saved a wretch like me..._

_I once was lost but now am found,_

_Was blind, but now, I see._

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><p>All America wanted to do was say he was sorry.<p>

He wanted to express that he was just so, so, _so_ damn sorry.

Not that anyone cared. Everyone told him to shut the hell up, they told him he didn't know anything, and maybe he didn't, but _hell_-!

Maybe that was why the sounds seemed to blend noiselessly around him, and the colors turned to grey and white and black and they swirled together. His feet hit the ground hard and fast, his heart pounded, his face gained new tears each and every second. Faster, faster, _FASTER_!

America ran.

No one was going to chase after him, so it felt like he was playing with himself, and his heart swelled with rage, sadness, helplessness-

Feelings that Heroes like him certainly weren't meant to possess. Feelings a Hero like him did not_ want_ to possess.

**He wished they'd just go away. Like everyone else. **

He choked on his tears, spit down his sobs, and bit his screams into submission.

_It was cold_, he realized,_ I'm in D.C._, he reminded himself, i_n the winter... _

_Of course it was going to be cold! Stupid America!_

Funny... He'd just quoted every single nation all at once... Funny, indeed...

A park bench, under the shade of a bare Cherry Tree, America slouched himself up, and gazed absently as his breath vaguely resembled smoke in the cold winter air. He had to keep reminding himself that he needed to breath. He just had to breath.

He closed his eyes, and listened to whatever he could hear in his desolate world. He inhaled and exhaled, and he repeated, and he could feel winter biting his cheek coldly. The cold air chapped his lips, and burned his strained lungs as he desperately inflated his chest in hope of just one more gasp of oxygenated air. It was so cold though, and it was like the air wanted him to choke on its bitter taste.

_'Lovely,_' he thought,'_Even Winter seems to hate me_.' America frowned deeply. His blue eyes were clouded and dull. His amber hair didn't seem to glow like it usually did. He seemed... tired. No, no, correction- He did not just _seem_ tired. Yes, yes, indeed, the seemingly endless amount of energy America usually possessed was no where to be found. No, no, I repeat again, he did not _seem_ tired. He **was** tired. As in, presently drained of all life force.

"Ama~zing Grace, how swee~t the sou~nd-"

America opened one eye gingerly.

Then the other one.

Then both widened.

"That sa~ved a wre~tch like me~"

He stared at a young girl- perhaps twelve, thirteen -as she spun in circles, her short, curly hair soaring in a chilly breeze as she laughed.

Her hazel-green eyes met his dull blue ones and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Mister, are you alright?" Her eyes swam with worry as she tumbled over her own feet, finding her way to the park bench America was on, and sat down without prompting from the older male and handed him a small orange handkerchief.

"You seem to have gotten something in your eyes, Mister."

America stared, stunned into an already achieved silence, and he watched as the girl hummed softly, as she fiddled with the small cross necklace that hung innocently around her olive-skinned neck. She was pretty- she looked Italian, perhaps with some French in the mix. Her thick hair curled in such a way that he'd only seen on the Vargas twins, and her eyes were such a beautiful shade of hazel that he was positive that she had to be a descendant of one of Romano's people. A small, solemn frown tugged at her full pink lips as she glanced at him. Her hair pertained a gleaming red tint in the winter sun, and he'd concluded she was a bit Scottish as well.

"Mister, did you know the War ended exactly a year ago today? Did ya? My big brother came home six months ago from Okinawa, but my other big brother didn't make it. He died in Guam." America flinched violently as the girl continued, "My Mama and Pop cried when they got the letter, and I cried too, but I'm sure that my fratello was happy to die for this country, Mister." She hummed a light airy tune that sounded a bit like, "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star".

"...Are you sure about that, Miss?"

The girl looked startled, but she nodded firmly.

"This country gave my Mama and Pops a home, and gave me a home as well, and I wouldn't leave for all the money that Germany owes the Big Man On Top. This is my home. Mister, you can replace home no matter how hard you try. I would die in a heart beat it if meant saving this place for the next generation. I love this country," she paused, holding her hands closely to her heart and she smiled a smile America had never seen before. It was like the girl was trying to put all her being into a single expression, and he had to admit, she was doing a fantastic job.

"I love this country so much it hurts, Mister. It physically hurts my heart to try and explain to you how wonderful this place is!"

America choked on words as tears rolled down his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, and he wept shamelessly. He was weeping in front of a young girl- a girl hundreds of years younger than himself, he didn't even know her name, he should've been ashamed-

"Mister, Mister-! Please, don't cry, Mister! Tell me what's the matter!" The girl was tugging on his sleeve, she sounded frantic, her voice tinged with sadness as she continued to pull at his bomber jacket.

"Mister, please, whatever happened, whatever you did wrong, you can tell me! Imma stranger, Mister! I ain't gonna judge you! Imma W.H.O.P. from the slums and you look like an All-American fellow, so, so, so-!" She sounded so, so, so sincere. It hurt America's heart to even hear her speak when she knew nothing of what he'd done to her, and so many others... She was so naive... Alfred F. Jones couldn't bear to let her think she deserved her forgiveness. If all the other older, wiser nations believed he was at fault, then who was he to question it? He was going to tell her, so she would understand, so she would go away.

"Miss, I'm a bad person. You need to get away from me. I might hurt you like I've hurt the rest of the people I held dear. You should get going. Your mother must be-" America was interrupted as the girl shot up like bullets from Hitler's Zipper and shook his large shoulders. Hard.

"Are you crazy, Mister! You're sad, and you're all by yourself in the middle of winter! Why, you could catch a cold! You're famiglia should be ashamed to left you run off while your so down! When it's the coldest day on record, no less! Why, I outta give your folks a piece of my mind-!" She released his shoulder, her breath fogging up the air, her eyes watering from the cold, and her limbs were shaking from irrefutable wrath. "Family chases after you when you run, Mister. So why don't I see any chasers givin' chase?"

America was stunned into silence. The girl's eyes had a fire in them that raged. It was like looking straight into a hell not meant for you personally, but still feeling every bit of heat and pain the person on the receiving end would get.

It was terrifying.

Her eyes made him genuinely fear Hell Fire.

"I said I was sorry. They said an apology wasn't enough to fix what I broke."

Keen eyes met dull ones and a fire raged silently in the cold winter air.

"Well, I forgive you, Mister."

Alfred stared, "I'm not even remotely acquainted with you, Miss. Why on earth would you-"

The girl once again interrupted.

"My name is Calogera Renata Bacardi. I'm a twelve-year old Italian Immigrant with a Ma that's Scot-French and a Pa that's purebred Italian. I was born in Italy, I'm the youngest of three, and I became an official American citizen when I turned nine. Nice to meet you, Mister."

America looked at his hands as he spoke,"I'm not entitled to give you my name because you gave me yours. I hope you realize that."

The young female just smiled knowing as her eyes drifted skyward. " You don't have to explain anything Mister. You don't have to give me something as important as your name. Just tell me that you know your forgiven Mister. I forgive you. It doesn't what you've done, what you are, or how many people you stabbed in the back," America flinch especially at this comment,"-None of that matters to me."

Sky blue met hazel-green and America suddenly felt old.

"I'm the personification of the United States of America. I betrayed my brothers, my best friend, and multiple others. I ruthlessly ordered the killing of hundreds of thousands of Japanese citizens when the A-bombs were dropped. I've been split in two, I've own slaves, I've killed so, _so _many people, and I've murdered innocent bystanders in the heat of battle. I'm young, and foolish, and every other country seems to despise me now that the war is over. I don't understand why, but they do, and I don't think I can take much more of their insulting me. My name is Alfred F. Jones, and I'm not really sure what the F. stand for, but I represent the United States of America and I've been alive for over three hundred years. And I don't deserve to be forgiven."

Her reply was instantaneous:

_"I forgive you, Mr. United States of America. I thank you, forgive you, embrace you, cherish you, love you, and wish you would stop being so harsh on yourself."_

She whispered softly-

_"-And I forgive you, because you've sinned just like the rest of us."_

Her eyes were shining.

"Mr._ America,"_

She smiled warmly-

America vaguely wondered how a girl, not even a fraction of his age, could've have this serene, knowing look on her face. It simply made no sense at all. Alfred F. Jone felt his heart swell with the most unfamiliar feeling of warmth and love.

He loved this child. He loved her.

He, Alfred F. Jones, wanted to insure her safety and the safety of all the millions of folks just like her.

**His**** citizens.**

_"You understand how awful life can be in such a sort amount of time."_

_"Don't give up yet."_

_"If those other countries don't need you, then we, the people, will just have to keep you all for ourselves."_

_"Right-"_

**_"Mr. America?"_**

HIS FAMILY.

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><p><em>If tomorrow all the things were gone<em>

_I'd worked for all my life,_

_And I had to start again_

_with just my children and my wife,_

_I'd thank my lucky stars_

_to be living here today,_

_'Cause the flag still stands for freedom_

_and they can't take that away._

_I'm proud to be an American_

_where at least I know I'm free,_

_And I won't forget the men who died_

_who gave that right to me,_

_And I gladly stand up next to you_

_and defend her still today,_

_'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land_

_God Bless the U.S.A._

_From the lakes of Minnesota_

_to the hills of Tennessee,_

_Across the plains of Texas_

_from sea to shining sea._

_From Detroit down to Houston_

_and New York to L.A.,_

_There's pride in every American heart_

_and it's time we stand and say:_

_I'm proud to be an American_

_where at least I know I'm free,_

_And I won't forget the men who died_

_who gave that right to me,_

_And I gladly stand up next to you_

_and defend her still today,_

_'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land_

_God Bless the U.S.A._

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><p>Thank you for reading, and please leave a review if you'd like to make suggestions or critiques~<p>

God Bless,

Mellow-chan


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